And there are people where I’m like, “Uh, okay, keep going…. Maybe I’ll respect you later.”
And almost no one gets to respect from that.
One who did was Anthony Bourdain.
His first show, A Chef’s Tour was one of a guy who got lucky, right place, right time, low budget, no hope of a long-term run. Everywhere he went, he was like Ally Sheedy in the breakfast club. He just kept being shocked that people were being nice to him.
There was no format for shows like his then, there still isn’t. Now there is an industry of people running around eating stuff—but none with the depth or commentary or personal notes that he evolved into.
It was certainly an evolution. His second show, No Reservations, is a show where you literally see someone mature out of their own character in a show designed for that character. The show was basically, “I’m a sarcastic dick and I’m going to travel around and eat things and be a sarcastic dick.”
There was a moment, or a set of moments, that made him and the show evolve into a much more refined, interested human being. Being through an air strike, natural disasters, and seeing people on return trips (some of whom passed away) were with an evident toll. Episodes visibly changed after each event. His treatment of the planet and the people in it always changed.
He was able to put into words and pictures almost everything I love about Vietnam and loved about Hong Kong. Even at the height of his sarcasm, he treated Vietnam with the dignity that it, in its own unique way, deserves.
In his newest work, Parts Unknown, occasionally he’d bring out the sarcasm, but to much better effect. The food was always there, but the place and the people gave it deliberate, careful, and caring context. It was an impressive effort by someone who had now seen a lot, understood what is special about our planet (the people), and understood his place in it.
He had now become someone with a distinct voice and a rare opportunity to let us all into the lives of people and peoples that few of us will ever meet.
I realized one day, in a kind of shocking way, that he had earned my respect. Not earned it like, “hey, nice job, dude,” but earned it like “You just took every opportunity to make the world worse—and you made it better. You just took a platform to make you money—and you provided understanding. You just took a safe job where you could read scripts—and you provided insights.”
Years ago, in 2004, when Spalding Gray jumped into the water, I came to know this horrible feeling. The feeling that an important voice was silenced at exactly the wrong time.
With Bourdain, he also talked about his demons, but I wasn’t expecting to wake up to this today. Not at all. I woke up today thinking about how wronged I was yesterday and frustrated I was. I picked up my phone (even though I tell people not to first thing in the morning) and found out about Bourdain.
Now I need to do a little more. Be a little more present. Somehow, in my own way, compensate us all for this loss. There is not a voice that can fill the space he has left. He was that individual.
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